


A Shapeling's Service

by FestivalGrey



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: (like mpreg but for they/them), Breeding, Consensual, Consensual Sex, Contracts, Impregnation, Lactation, Monsters, Nonbinary Character, Other, Pregnancy, Pregnant Sex, Shapeshifting, Thempreg, Vaginal Sex, a shapeshifter runs a conception/breeding service, the minotaur is gonna be a proud father
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-09
Updated: 2020-06-09
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:09:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24631342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FestivalGrey/pseuds/FestivalGrey
Summary: A story set in an RPG-esque world! Admist the dungeons and adventures, some creatures just want to propogate—but it's not always easy to find mates! Enter a shapeshifter, running a clandestine and high-class conception service in the captial. They'll breed with anyone, for the right price!
Relationships: Minotaur/Shapeshifter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 75





	A Shapeling's Service

Garraul the minotaur was uncertain what to expect when he arrived at the center for the conception service. He usually avoided the big cities, with their humans and halflings and various other folk who had only ever heard of his kind menacing adventurers in far-off dungeons. The land was forward-thinking enough that he wasn’t immediately met at spearpoint, but even ignoring how out-of-place he seemed (and felt), the big bustle of the crowds just didn’t appeal to him, and the tiny streets weren’t built for folk his size. Standing outside the conception center’s door, he was filled with even more doubt. The place looked tiny, barely capable of fitting him.

But female minotaurs were in short supply and Garraul was desperate for kin, so when he’d heard tale of a conception center that promised success for any comer, he’d decided to risk it.

Noting that the outside was completely unmarked (as he had been told it would be), Garraul squeezed inside. He noted an interior that was sparse but tidy; quite presentable overall. The room was spacious vertically; what he’d taken as a two-story building only had one floor and a high roof, so he could fit in with ease. There were no chairs of any sort, but there was a broad oak desk with a single receptionist sitting behind.

“Welcome,” the half-elf said. “Garraul?”

“Aye,” he grunted, his voice low and basso. Unfamiliar creatures were often scared of it, but this individual showed no concern.

“Xai will be waiting for you below,” the half-elf said, and with a crank of a lever half-hidden by the desk, a floor panel swung back.

Garraul descended the staircase, which was again surprisingly spacious, all things considered—not quite as accommodating as home, but he was able to pass through without stooping.

The lower level was a broad chamber, well-lit with magic constructs, that was far bigger than the ground floor. It was more richly furnished, with divans and cushions and armchairs of various sizes scattered about; Garraul saw with surprise that more than a few were capable of meeting his size, and others were too big for him!

Sitting in one of the smaller chairs was an individual he assumed was Xai. They had a humanoid body shape, though their skin was a strange, cloudy blue that was halfway to being dark grey. Their features were… well, Garraul had never been _great_ at telling male and female humans apart, but he had no idea with this one. Glossy brown hair, strangely shimmery, almost metallic, fanned past their shoulders.

Their nose was aquiline, their cheekbones prominent, their chin broad, their eyebrows thin and defined. Their eyes seemed slightly too large for their face, and as Garraul watched they cycled through colors for a moment before settling on a muted purple. If their face made it hard to categorize them, their body didn’t clear up matters—they were completely naked, and while their chest was flat with unprominent nipples like a male’s and they sported a modest, flaccid dick, they were absently rubbing and caressing a belly that could not have been mistaken as anything other than pregnant, from its firmness to its sheer weight.

“Welcome,” Xai said, and their voice was high and, again, hard to place. “You must be Garraul. Sit wherever you feel comfortable.”

Garraul chose a large cushion and sat down with caution. The person in front of him eyed him impishly. He opened his mouth—found he had nothing to say—and shut it again, feeling a fool.

The person laughed. “I’m Xai,” they said rather unnecessarily. “And I suspect I’m not what you were expecting.”

What _had_ he been expecting? Little had been said up front, but this was hardly what he could have imagined. Garraul only nodded.

“I’m a shapeling,” Xai said. “Probably the first you’ve met. Complete self-modification at my whim, within reason. Makes it easy to stay young and in-shape; I’m just shy of three-hundred years strong and will probably push ten thousand before I start showing any age, provided the world doesn’t shatter by then.” They craned their head to the side, still studying the minotaur; their check rested on one hand, while the other still caressed their indisputably pregnant stomach. “Lots of people associate us with doppelgangers and impersonations, so we shapelings aren’t well-liked… it’s why I try to keep this service as clandestine as possible. But then, I don’t suspect that you’re a stranger to being an outsider in places like these.”

“Mm.” Garraul finally found his voice in time to respond.

“You seem a clever sort, so I expect you’ve already deduced the set-up: I’m bored, immortal, and my body can be almost anything. So I run a service helping people get biological kids. I’ll carry the offspring of anyone who needs to knock someone up, and I’ll also impregnate anyone with a womb. The sex is good, the pay is better, and I get to live a life of luxury in the grandest city in the world.”

It was true—the services advertised cost _quite_ a pretty penny. But what Garraul had heard of shapelings had left him convinced that this Xai could follow up on whatever they said.

“I can understand studding yourself out,” he said. “But well-paid or not, you’re really willing to do this over and over—just give whole months of your life to carrying other peoples’ kids?”

Xai’s chuckle was like water dripping down a glass windchime. “My friend, I’m centuries old and still young for my kind. A few months pregnant is _nothing_ , especially since I don’t have to worry about a sore back or morning cramps—I can make my body perfectly crafted to handle pregnancy of any sort.”

“And what about the kids?” Garraul asked. “Are they shapelings too?”

“Not unless I want them to be, and if we agree for me to be bred, I sign a contract to ensure I don’t play around with anyone’s genetics. If you’re concerned, I have a list of testimonials stretching back well over a decade.” Xai leaned back luxuriously, holding up their fingers as they counted. “Lots of humans and dwarves, of course, but there was a harpy… a kobold, once… a few ratkin… a weretiger… even a dragon.”

Garraul’s eyebrows rose. The building was designed to allow large occupants, but a dragon? “How’d it _fit?_ ”

“ _Very_ well,” Xai purred, only to stop as they read the embarrassment on Garraul’s face. “Oh my! You mean the building, silly me. Well, most of them can shapeshift too.” Laughing, they glanced down at their belly with a smile. “These are some gnoll pups. I can’t guarantee multiples, but success rates for them are higher depending on the father species. Whatever your fancy, I guarantee that your offspring will genetically be 100% identical to your species, and in perfect health and free of any defects. Warning, they _may_ inherit my insatiable horniness.”

That last was delivered with a knowing wink, and Garraul smirked. “Well. So how do I… do we…”

That perked them up. “Oh, interested? You _do_ know the rates, hmmmm? You can pay? Excellent! Sadly, even I can’t get impregnated while carrying another’s kids—this is just a preliminary interview. I find it helpful for many prospective customers. These pups are due in about a month… let me deliver them, give me about 10 days to recuperate, and then I’ll be ready to bear your offspring. You _are_ fertile? I’ve had misconceptions before where infertile males considered me a way around that, but even I can’t work miracles.”

“We’ll see soon enough,” Garraul said. “I won’t blame you if it doesn’t work.”

“A perfect gentleman! Well then, head upstairs and dear Devinaa will get you all sorted out.”

Garraul rose with a nod, offering the shapeling a massive hand to shake; they stood without difficulty, still cradling that heavy stomach, and took it. As he headed upstairs, Garraul’s head spun with all of this. He was going to knock up a shapeling… he was going to have sex with a shapeling.

What a crazy world.

\---

The date arrived and Garraul again made his way through the streets of the capital, politely ignoring all the stares that came his way. He once more squeezed into the nondescript building.

Devinaa waved him over with a smile. “The _maître_ has been expecting you! We just have a few quick things to fill out…”

Garraul allowed her to help him through the paperwork. When asked for payment, rather than pull out coin, he hefted out two small but heavy gold ingots. “Apologies. I stopped by the moneychanger, but that loud-mouthed gnome wouldn’t serve a minotaur without a co-signee. This should more than cover it, the extra is on the house.”

Devinaa’s eyes were huge but she marshalled her emotions expertly. “I accept them with my _maître_ ’s thanks. They are waiting for you below.” She smirked impishly. “And enjoy yourself!”

Heading below once more, Garraul emerged into the low room. The furniture had been pushed to the side, and a gargantuan satin-covered cushion, easily five times the size of any royal bed, consumed most of the room. Lounging in the middle was Xai.

They were similar to how he had remembered them—humanoid in shape and form, blue-grey skin, umber hair, a sultry look filled with mystique. But now their body was mostly female in form: a hairless cleft with a prominent clit up top and a generous bosom were the most obvious additions, but other things changed about them too—the way their fat was distributed about their legs and hips, a slight lessening of their harsh cheekbones amidst their still-largely-androgynous face. The one major anomaly still suggested femininity: a line of teats, unlike a human’s bosom but small and tender, lining their stomach like a wolf’s.

“Welcome,” Xai said. The magic constructs had been dimmed and complemented with flickering candles, which were filling the room with an aromatic haze that reminded Garraul strangely of autumn. “I hope you like the bed. I only break it out for special clients; it cost me more than some tradesmen make in a year.”

Garraul believed it. He tested the bed and found it both divine and more than capable of holding his weight. “Well,” he said, “you spare no expense.”

That tinkling laugh again; so enigmatic, so enticing. “This is my life for the foreseeable future. I may as well make it pleasant. So.” They rolled over onto their stomach, cradling their chin on their hands and kicking their feet up; their breasts squashed low underneath them. “Any preference on shape? I default to this form for most clients with penises, but I’m willing to be just about anything. If you want me to be a minotauress…”

“That shape is fine,” Garraul said; he’d never been picky when it came to mates. Most minotaurs weren’t. “Though if you could be a bit more my size…”

Xai didn’t say ‘of course.’They didn’t need to. They merely chuckled coyly and then… grew. It was strange in its total naturalness. Despite the fact that one minute they were human-sized, and then they were human-sized but _bigger,_ and then bigger, and then even more, despite the fact that such things would seem innately unnatural to most, Garraul got the sense that this was no more of an issue than seeing a butterfly emerge from a chrysalis.

They finished growing a scant few inches under his own height, still keeping the shape of the female humanoid. “Shall we begin?” they said. “I’ve been looking forward to this.”

Garraul thought to the young he would receive—how he would finally have a son to show how to mine and carve and craft, someone to whom he could pass down his family’s legacy of secrets.

(“I would like a son most of all,” Garraul had told the receptionist after climbing back up to ground floor that first day. “Can they guarantee a son?” In response, she had just smiled and flipped two pages hence to a part of the form which read PREFERRED SEX OF CHILD [IF ANY].

“They can control what race the child ends up as,” she said. “Selecting the sex of them is simplicity itself.”)

“I’ve been looking forward to this too,” Garraul said. Then, spurred on by the candelight and Xai’s inviting eyes, he reached out one massive hand and cupped their breast.

The shapeling moaned appreciatively, sinking back onto the satined cushion, and Garraul followed, running his hands along their smooth, flawless, perfect skin. _What a power,_ he thought to himself, _to be able to_ be _anything you want to be._ Xai could have chosen to become anything.

And today, with Devinaa doubtless still fawning over the ingots on the level above, they had chosen to be a breeder.

The contract stipulated that the breeding could be as cursory or as extravagant as the client wished, time and funds abiding; Garraul, like most of his kind, was a simple creature who enjoyed simple pleasures. Bending himself low, the minotaur nosed at Xai’s neck, hearing them coo at the sound, and he felt his erection growing between his legs.

“I wish to be inside of you,” he growled, and they reached up their hands around his back in response, tracing patterns on his back with their fingertips as they pulled him close.

“Then be inside of me,” they replied, and with that approval, he angled his cock and sunk home.

It was _heaven._ The shapeling’s pussy was perfectly made for him. There was no resistance; he pushed in the whole way without issue, but Xai’s tunnel was still enticingly tight. Murmuring, the shapeling rolled their hips and clenched tight around Garraul, and the minotaur panted.

“F-fuck,” he said. “I—f-fuck…”

“Well,” Xai purred, an impish look in their eyes (which today were a soft coral color), “that _is_ the general idea.” They bent up to his ear, so close he felt their breath on his skin, moist and hot. “You know the real reason why I picked this job?” they said. “It wasn’t really the money. _Or_ the sex. I just like having other peoples’ kids in me. It as simple as that. Now do me a favor and put _yours_ in there as well.”

They fell back to the bed, their arms still wrapped around Garraul and pulling him closer, and he gave himself to his urges and went to town on them. Every push in was slick and tight and unimpeded, and every rush out massaged his cock as he went. It was the most natural, most rewarding sex he had ever had, and before long he was slamming into Xai full force, both of them bucking as their hips met again and again and again. Even a minotauress would require tender handling, but this shapeling? They could handle _anything_ he gave them. Garraul was a minotaur unleashed, absolutely plowing their slit, and Xai’s voice, euphonious and melodic, filled the chamber.

Finally, unable to hold it for much longer, Garraul grunted, bucking in his hips once—twice—then he was spurting inside of them.

He sagged against the satin, breath ragged, having nearly collapsed onto the shapeling; seed leaking from their slit, Xai rolled over with a lazy, half-lidded look. “That was quite good.”

The pride of the moment caught up with him. “The best you’ve ever had?”

“I’ve slept with a _lot_ of people, Garraul,” Xai replied, their voice gently chiding him for even deigning to ask such a thing. “But I mean what I said. It was quite good.” They blinked and their expression changed—momentarily surprised, then satisfied. They raised a hand to their stomach and left it under their navel. “And oh; it took. I’m pregnant.”

“You—you know? Already?”

“I know,” Xai said. “Believe me, Garraul. You’ll have your son soon enough.”

Even amidst his post-coital euphoria, the true triumph of the situation—him, carrying a smiling minotaur child on his shoulders through the mountain trenches—made Garraul smiled. “Good, shapeling. Very very good.”

\---

After the minotaur returned home with a promise to return in time to collect his offspring—it was due thirteen months hence; one of the longer gestations Xai had ever done, though far from the absolute worst—life returned to normal at the conception center.

Carrying offspring brought in the good coin, but Xai punctuated their pregnancy with small studding jobs for less hefty (but still quite tidy) fees, growing a dick and impregnating any female who needed it. The first session planned for that was in fact a mere three days after Garraul’s departure, and Xai wondered if the halfling woman who had wandered upstairs on uncertain legs with a blissful smile and a successfully inseminated womb had any inkling whether or not she’d been impregnated by someone who was pregnant themself.

It hadn’t seemed important to mention, but these non-shapers always had such strange hangups.

Of course, while their body was theirs to mold as their whims held, Garraul’s growing offspring left Xai growing larger and larger, and they defaulted to holding the shape of a pregnant human female in public (less awkward questions or glances that way) while defaulting to their preferred androgynous state in private. But it made for interesting encounters with the women they bred. One half-orc had actually taken it upon herself to ask in the interview whether Xai was “male or female, really.”

“I’m whichever makes me the most money at the moment,” they replied flightily, “though that only goes skin deep… at my core, I don’t change regardless, and I find that two-sided distinction entirely inaccurate to who I am.” The answer hadn’t _satisfied_ her per se, but she’d gone ahead and ordered the session, and while they were rutting into her, she’d cried out “yes, yes, oh—knock up, fill me with babies just like _you’re_ brimming with them! Gods above—make me pregnant too!”

 _The lady has a fetish,_ Xai noted. _Duly filed away._

Thirteen months pregnant might have been daunting to most mortals, but to Xai it went by like the breeze, so that when they felt the by-now-quite-massive baby minotaur start acting up, rolling and kicking in preparation for birth, Xai noted that it seemed that Garraul had come only yesterday.

The father of Xai’s latest child had arrived on time, and after Xai delivered the baby (which was smooth and painless, as always; why would it ever be anything but, when they could shape the birth canal to perfectly accommodate their child?) they had nursed it for a few minutes before handing it off to Garraul.

“I have had Devinaa milk me and stockpile it,” they told him, “so speak with her to get it. The child is quite active.”

“Mm.” Garraul was barely listening, staring down at the newborn minotaur cradled in his arms with awe. He glanced up and Xai saw actual, genuine tears in his eyes. “Thank you so much. This is—I will always remember this.”

“Of course.” Xai wouldn’t lie and say they would remember either Garraul or their offspring in the long run—they had experienced far too many lovers and borne far too many children over their life for either to stick out. But Garraul seemed a good sort; between the first interview and the session, Xai always had contacts in the shadow guild dig into an applicant’s background. Just because they weren’t going to raise or even remember the child, that didn’t mean Xai was going to pawn off their offspring to a parent who would be cruel or even indifferent. Every one of their paramours had been vetted as a good parent.

Garraul left later that day with his newborn in tow. For him, it would be the day his life changed forever, a day in which he no longer lived solitary, but had someone to raise and teach and hunt with and show where their place in the world was. It was the best day of his life.

For Xai, it was just another job. _But then again,_ they mused as they watched Garraul leave with a smile on his face, _some jobs really are worth doing._

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed the story! I tagged it as D&D since even though this isn't explicitly set in any D&D setting, it was inspired by old campaigns back in the day :'p
> 
> I hope you like the story, and the idea of thempreg--I might approach future stories with the idea in mind, or write sequels to this, if it's popular enough!
> 
> And hey--while you're here, consider [checking me out on Twitter!](https://twitter.com/FestivalGrey)


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